


Enduring Atlas

by fuzzball_theory



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, psuedo-Norse Mythology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzball_theory/pseuds/fuzzball_theory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor stands up to Odin when it comes to Loki's children. In exchange for every good deed Thor does for Loki's various children, Odin passes a new punishment onto his shoulders. This goes on for centuries until Odin goes too far and is found out. Myth-movie mash-up based on a Norsekink prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8802.html?thread=18511970#t18511970 prompt. Additional warnings at bottom of fic.

Fenrir

“Protecting these beasts of your brother’s issue does no one any good, Thor,” Odin said, hands quickly and efficiently locking the last of the seemingly fragile chains snugly around Thor’s neck. The All-Father slid a finger beneath the glittering, sharp-edge orihalcum and tugged, watching intently as the metal bit into his eldest son’s flesh. Thor attempted to twist away, but with the chains criss-crossing around his arms and twining like gleaming, needy vines up his legs there was no where for him to escape. Already brilliant scarlet was slicking the winking metal links.

Odin hummed in approval of the chains’ grip and pulled away from his son. He critically eyed the position that Thor found himself in, mimicking the way that Fenrir had been forced to endure: on all fours. 

“You’d best pray your _nephew_ \--” Odin spat the word out, a twist of his lips showing his displeasure, “returns soon. You will be bound here every day that he is gone. No food, no water, no respite.”

He stepped close to Thor and laid a paternal hand on the bound man’s shoulder. “I only do this because I must. If you knew what I saw for this mutt’s future you’d understand,” Odin consolingly whispered, carding his fingers through blonde hair, attempting to bring some order to the sweat-damped tangles. Thor just cut wounded, blue eyes at his father from under his lashes.

When Odin walked away he could hear the boy mutter with heart-breaking conviction, “And if you was what I see now you’d understand why I do what I must.”

That first time Fenrir took a week to finally return. Every time after, he dutifully slunk back by the first rays of light of the following morning. Some times he stays pressed to Thor’s side, supporting his uncle.

  
Sleipnir   


Thor pressed his palm to the broad plane between Sleipnir’s dark eyes and then promptly slipped his fingers underneath the braided gold bridle, rubbing against the gray-furred body.

“And that is how your father had Fandral not only shave his beard, but his eyebrows,” Thor finished his tale with a chuckle, shaking his head at the remembered spectacle. Sleipnir’s dark gray shook under Thor’s hand, a bright nicker escaping past his nephew’s dark, velvet soft lips.

After the unusual pair quiet their laughter, Thor places a gentle hand on the horse’s shoulder and leaves a solid pat. “Until next time, Sleipnir. Maybe I’ll tell you of how Loki _and_ Hogun tricked a dwarf out of ten ingots of uru and a keg of his ale for Fulla’s wedding.,” he called happily as he backed out of the stall. As he passed into the next room that lead out the stable’s side doors, he paused at the sight of Einarr, the stable master smiling faintly as he leaned casually against the wall. Einarr dipped his brown-haired head in the direction of the tack room before walking in.

Thor took a deep, calming breath before steeling himself. He followed the stable master into the tack room, pausing to shut the door and press his back to the door as his gaze settled on Einarr’s broad back. He appeared to be in the middle of an innocent inventory of the bridles and reins. Thor swept his hand down to lock the door’s latch into place. He’d rather no one wander into his humiliation.

“Strip,” Einarr called over his shoulder, his voice deep and deceptively soothing.

Thor reached surprisingly steady hands to tug his tunic and lighter undershirt off. He calmly folded them and placed them in an empty cubbyhole probably meant for cleaning rags or curry combs. He curled his belt up and placed that on top of his shirts. His boots were toed off next, and Thor couldn’t stop the slight flinch from his bare feet touching the cold rough stones of the floor. 

It was at the closures of his trousers that Thor hesitated, casting a covert glance over his shoulder at Einarr. The dark-haired stable master still had his back turned to Thor, though he could see that the man had cleared a battered chair of a stack of older saddle blankets and pulled it farther into the room. The saddle blankets, on the other hand, were spread out to make what could easily be recognized as a pallet. Thor turned back around, closed his eyes and inhaled a fortifying breath even as his fingers made quick work of his trousers. He slid those too into the tiny alcove.

A solid heat suddenly pressed along his back, from shoulder to thigh and Thor froze, breath locked in his lungs. A calloused hand smoothed along the slope of bone of his right hip.

“Hmm, you come here so often that I’m starting to think you enjoy my company. Or maybe it’s just a quirk of the king’s lineage to love a good ride.” The bite of the words was accompanied by the sharp graze of teeth on Thor’s shoulder. Thor’s nostrils flared as his breath gusted out in a rush.

“No marks,” he snapped, shoulder reflexively twitching away. Einarr tightened his hand on Thor’s flank.

“No marks _where they can be seen_ ,” he mocked, hands suddenly catching Thor’s arms and yanking them behind the prince’s back. For his part, Thor couldn’t stop the conditioned need to fight back, to resist. Einarr broken into a throaty laugh as his frame twisted and rode the movements, his hands twining a pair of reins around Thor’s straining arms, locking them behind his back. “Oh, looks like we’ll have to break you to a rider again!”

Einarr broke away, only maintaining his hold the harsh leather biting into Thor’s wrists, quickly backing away, tugging the blonde along. Thor stumbled as he was pulled backwards across the room before he was swung around and the hard pressure of palms on his shoulders pressed him down to his knees. Thor bared his teeth in a snarl, staring up at the fully-clothed Einarr. 

Einarr’s hands swept up Thor’s neck and ruffled long blonde wave of hair before he sank down into the chair with a sigh. He smirked down at Thor as he spread his thighs, a hand palming his crotch for a moment before his finger flicked open the line of buttons holding his leather trousers closed.

“Suck,” Einarr said as he pulled his flushed cock into the cool air of the tack room. He gave it a few slow, flourishing strokes as he smirked at the curl of distaste evident on Thor’s face. “Do a good job and it won’t be the only slick you get later,” he added as he jerked his chin down at a small flask sitting on the floor by one of the chair’s legs.

Thor shuffled forward on his knees towards the other man. He maneuvered the best he was able without the use of his hands for balance. Blue eyes darted up to track Einarr’s hands, which had settled on the sloping arms of the chair.

Thor dipped his head, lips parted, only to have Einarr “tsk” loudly over the sound of their breathing. “Don’t rush it. Give me a good show, Odinson,” his voice called from above. Thor flinched but quickly regained his composure. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. If this had been with someone he wanted to share this experience with he would do what he found pleasurable. Instead he clamped down on such thoughts. There was no way he would tie this moment to his sex life.

He pressed forward again, ducking his head to stroke the flat of his tongue along the thick vein that ran the length of Einarr’s cock. A stuttered breath drifted down from above Thor. He tilted his head, laying a sucking open-mouth kiss just under the rosy crown; blonde strands hair trailing across Einarr’s exposed skin following Thor’s movements. Thor mouthed the head of his penis, tonguing away the begins of precum from the slit.

His motions stilled as Einarr’s fingers tangled in his loose hair, stroking and petting, before he made an inquisitive noise and thrust his hips towards Thor’s mouth. Taking that as his cue, Thor parted chapped lips and endured this invasion.

“Mind your teeth,” Einarr snapped, needlessly.

Thor flattened his tongue, letting Einarr’s smoothly glide into his mouth as he bobbed his head down. He idly wondered if he could get the stable master to come early so they could end this little game of Odin’s. The blonde warrior set a steady pace, dipping to let the first several inches of his tormentor’s cock in his mouth. He maintained that shallow depth from a mixture of inexperience and rebellion, as well as lacking any leverage to comfortably go farther. 

After a few minutes of dipping and retreating to the soundtrack of Einarr’s moaned curses and the slick sound of saliva wet flesh sliding between his lips, Thor felt one of Einarr’s hands slide to the back of his skull, fingers tightening painfully in his hair as they curled into a fist that forced Thor forward farther and farther onto his cock until his nose was buried in the coarse nest of hair that tapered up under the hem of Einarr’s tunic.

Thor swallowed convulsively as the cock’s head was pushed past the reluctant and unprepared muscles of his throat, and was held there. He couldn’t breath. He _couldn’t breath_! His nose was blocked; his throat was blocked. The flood of whirling static in his ears drowned out Einarr’s breathy moan as Thor descended into full-blown panic. His body twisted, strained, and bucked but he had no leverage. Einarr used his hold to suddenly yank Thor back so only the tip of his cock remained inside his mouth before plunging him back down his length. The stable master repeated this twice more, never giving Thor a chance to regroup.

Then Thor’s world abruptly shifted as Einarr slammed his hands on the prince’s shoulders and shoved him back, sending him tumbling to the floor to land awkwardly (and painfully) on his bound arms. Thor curled his knees up to his chest even as he descended into a coughing fit. His throat ached; his lungs burned. He had Einarr’s _taste_ in his mouth. Between bouts of coughing, he bared his teeth in a snarl, rolled his body and tried his best to spit out the bitterness that coated his tongue.

After several minutes passed, Thor turned his blurry vision to see what Einarr had been doing and felt icy dread fight the ball of rage in the pit of his stomach. The stable master was now as naked as Thor, his fist pumping leisurely at his cock, slick with precum, spit, and now oil.

“Are we calm now, prince?” Einarr drawled as he noticed Thor’s attention. Pulling his hand away from his cock, he walked to where Thor lay curled up. The stable master used the handhold that the leather reins made to lever the blonde onto the scratchy pile of saddle blankets. At the first tensing of his muscles, Eirann mockingly cooed, “Now, now. No need for that. We both know I have permission.”

He dropped Thor onto his front, only to kick his legs farther apart so that the stable master could kneel behind him. Einarr lightly stroked his fingers down his captive’s sides, settling his hands onto the dip of Thor’s waist, and harshly tugged him up onto his knees. This put all of Thor’s weight resting on his knees and his upper chest and shoulders. 

Thor twisted his head so he could continue to gulp in air, his cheek rested against the thick blanket --which still smelled of leather, oil, and horse-- while his hair acted as a thin veil between him and the rest of the world. Noticing this, Einarr reached up a hand and smoothed back the blonde curtain. He flashed a smile at the prince as he pulled back, hand momentarily settling on the small of Thor’s back before returning to grip his waist.

Thor couldn’t stop his muscles for seizing as Einarr’s other hand drifted between his buttocks, a greased thumb slipping and sliding threateningly across his entrance, Thor struggled and shifted, but there was nowhere for him to go and he could can no leverage. A sharp slap froze his movements.

“I see being gentle is no use,” Einarr growled, the pressure from his hand disappearing from Thor’s ass. 

Thor’s blue eyes widened and he began his struggles anew. “Wa-wait! No, wai-- Ah!” Thor shrieked, no longer mindful of the noises he made as Einarr lined his cock and speared into him. Thor’s teeth flashed as he bit into his own lower lip, blood blooming from the wound; a high-pitched whine built pressure in his throat, the sound escaping like steam from a kettle. Einarr stilled when he was fully seated inside Thor, clearly relishing the clench of muscles.

“Hah,” he panted, “You’re like a virgin on her wedding night.”

He slowly dragged Thor off the length of his cock until only the head remained inside before slamming back in. “Tight.” 

Einarr then draped himself over Thor’s back, only his bound arms kept their bodies from being pressed together. “But we both know you’re no virgin,” he added even as he rolled his hips against Thor’s ass. Einarr quickly picked up the force and pace of his thrusts. Thor for his part simply grew silent and stared blankly at the wall, focusing on the taste of blood and iron in his mouth, and the faintest traces of ozone in the air.

It didn’t take long before Einarr spilled inside Thor. As a last indignity, he let all his weight rest on Thor for a moment before pulling out. With pleasure-drunk fingers he reach downed and roughly tugged off the leather reins binding Thor’s arms before finding a clean rag and wiping himself off.

“Huh, even bled a bit like a virgin too,” he grunted before tossing the rag towards Thor’s form.

Thor waited until Einarr had dressed and left before slowly, gingerly rolling to his side and cradling his arms to his chest. The ligature marks were already a blue-black network of bruising, and the pain from blood rushing back in had him hissing out between clenched teeth. As did, the pain coming from his lower half as he rolled to pick up the rag. Thor resolutely stared straight ahead as he quickly and carefully cleaned himself up. It took several minutes before he built up enough steam to stand, stagger to his clothing and robotically dress. 

When Thor finally stumbled back to his rooms, he holed up in there for several days, taking no visitors. Most assumed he had been hunting he was so withdrawal. It took him several weeks before he was as boisterous as before, though to his companions he did seem more vicious on the battlefield.

  


Jormungandr  


There is nothing that Thor could do for Jormungandr. Instead the heavens opened up and rain fell over Asgard for a week.

  


Hel  


Thor coughed and spat briny water out of his mouth as he was hauled back above the sea’s surface. His fingernails bit ineffectually into Odin’s leather and metal gauntlets, just above where his father had his fist curled into the sopping material of Thor’s undershirt. Thor’s bare feet slid through the silt seafloor, unable to gain any traction, which clouded the water as well a few moments before the currents pulled the sediments away.

“Again. If you wish to see that abomination, you will go there the old-fashioned way,” Odin snarled before bringing all his weight and power to bear on his dizzy son. He pressed the boy back under the waves, holding him there as Thor kicked and clawed to get back to surface. 

Thor kept his mouth clamped shut and beat his fists against whatever solid flesh he could strike as the churning water blurred his vision, though the blows appeared to do nothing, much as words had failed appeal to the All-father‘s sense of reason. As the minutes ticked by, his lungs screamed in agony, burning from the exertion and the need to expel his swallowed breath. Thor clenched his burning eyes shut, barely noticing a difference as his vision was already a tunnel collapsing in upon itself. 

Finally, he was unable to stop the first sob that flooded his mouth with a combination of brackish water and slick silt, and he was consumed by the last, fading edges of his panic.

Thor sat up with a gasp, unable to stop the shiver that passed over his skin at the non-temperature of his surroundings. His blue eyes rushed around his surroundings, cataloguing first, and most notably, the heavy gray mist that obscured the world only a matter of feet away, though the hazy silhouettes of stone columns and arches rose up in the fog like the desiccated ribcage of some ancient beast. He had been laid the ground, half on hard-packed dirt and half on the broken remains of a massive stone tile worn smooth with time. Behind him, in the distance he could make out the steady ebb of waves, muffled like a partially forgotten memory.

He brushed his fingers over his shirt, finding it dry, and pulled his bare feet against the cool tile before righting himself. He looked around for another moment, but heard nothing and saw no change to the fog. With a slight shake of his shoulders, Thor followed the path made by the broken pillars, moving cautiously lest he catch his foot on something in the gloom.

While the hazy sky seemed to be caught in either twilight or pre-dawn hours, Thor had no idea how long he had been walking when the fog finally began to lighten and lift. The tiles and dirt gave way to dewy grass, and the stone pillars were replaced by first leaf-less carcasses of trees twisting heavenward, but even those gradually gave way to healthy growth. In the middle of a darkened glade, a stone, wood, and moss throne grew from the ground. Thor slowed, cautious as he caught sight of the small figure sitting upon it, wrapped in a heavy cloak.

At his approach, the figure shifted straightened, though it did not emerge from under its obscuring clothing. “Uncle!” a clear, childlike voice sang out.

Thor blinked and straightened. “Hel, is that you?” he asked.

A flash of bone pale hands was visible beneath the folds of cloth as the girl clapped excitedly and stood. Hel gracefully slid from her perch and rushed with adolescent joy to her uncle, cloak left clinging to the throne. The queen of Niflheim was a blur of pale skin and tangled dark hair as she streaked to Thor, and he was unable to stop the huff of air that escaped his throat at the sudden impact as his niece barreled into his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her birdlike frame and buried his noise in dark, untamed curls. He basked in her quiet giggles for a moment more. When Thor pulled back, he could not say exactly what his niece looked like. Yes, he knew she was reminiscent of her father when he had been a child, pale skin and dark hair, but he only caught vague impressions of her laughing eyes or the flash of teeth as she grinned. 

She apparently caught wind of his confusion before patting his arm consolingly. “It is better this way, wrapped in shadow and coddled by illusions,” Hel said, still smiling brightly.

Thor nodded, even if he did not quite understand why she needed to wrap herself in illusions to protect him.

“But less of that. You’ve come and I did not expect it,” she whispered, a slight pout had her lower lip jutting out. “I did not have time to prepare,” she whined before breaking into a grin.

Thor rolled his eyes and hoisted his niece higher into the air before striding towards her throne. He paused for a moment as he noticed where once a single chair had sat there was now instead a bench. A giggle like the babbling of a brook caught in his ear.

“And that the _fun_ part of being a goddess in charge of my own realm: it does what I will,” Hel said, looking in the direction of Thor’s gaze as she curled her small hands onto his shoulder. Thor snorted jovially as he carried her to the spot. When he reached the couch, he curled one arm around Hel, flipping her upside-down to the shriek of her laughter, and pressed his fingers to her slight ribcage, tickling.

“Stop! Sto-aha-p! This is,” she broke into giggles, legs and arms flailing in the air, “This is unbecoming for a queen!”

Thor righted his niece, her black hair streamed behind her, and dropped her gently onto the moss cushions of her couch. Hel folded her arms across her chest, lips pursed and a silly scowl pulled down on her eyebrows. She waited for her uncle to sit on his side of the couch before leaping across the expanse with a cry of revenge. 

After a few minutes of play-fighting, Thor fell back on the couch. One of his hands curled against his chest, the other held Hel away. “I surrender, noble Hel. I can fight no more,” he said with exaggerated defeat. Hel dropped back to the cushions with a triumphant grin; she pressed in close to her uncle’s side.

“So why have you come?” she asked with a happy sigh, threading her arms around his bicep and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Well, it is your birthday, and I thought that if your uncle couldn’t make time to drop in he had no right to call himself your uncle. So what do you want for you birthday?” Thor inquired, finger poking into Hel’s delicate side which earned him a shrill giggled-shriek and a swap to the arm.

Hel straightened momentarily, tapping a finger to her chin with exaggerated care. “I want a story,” she finally said, slowly enunciating each word.

“Ah, the little queen wants a story? Then she shall have _all_ the stories,” he replied.

With that Thor began to weaves tales of his and Loki’s childhood, their various training. He told of Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg masquerading as dwarves maids to get hold of some hidden artifact, and how they had been chased out of the dwarves city when Loki had told the guard. He told stories of Warriors Three and Shield-maiden Sif laying waste to a host of fire giants. Thor talked of days spent rolling in the vibrant grasses of Asgard under a welcoming sun, of riding horses through fields on a hunt. He spoke of Frigga and even Odin, back when his father was not enshrouded in paranoia and hate.

Thor had no idea of how long he talked, whether it was hours, or days, or even years. When his voice would start to break, taking on a hoarse quality, Hel would simply reach out and brush her cool fingertips to his throat, restoring his voice to its booming quality. 

Finally, Thor fell silent. He tucked his chin onto the crown of Hel’s head. “I could stay here, if you wish,” he said dreamily.

Hel pressed her cheek to his shoulder, basking in his warmth for a moment more before pulling away.

“Nay, uncle. Niflheim is the realm of the peaceful death. It is a realm for the children taken too soon and the elders taken too late. It is for the scholar too buried in his books to notice the adventures around him. You would grow to be bored here,” she whispered softly.

Thor shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

She smiled, “It’s just the mists that make you think so. They soften all the hurts, but also all the life and joy. You are made for more. You are needed still. Goodbye and thank you, uncle.” With those words still ringing, Hel grabbed her cloak and whirled it over Thor, shrouding him in dark.

Thor surged up, coughing, shoving the cloak down his chest. He was shaking, cold, the crash of waves on the shoreline drowning out his quiet sobs. His hair was matted to his head, crusted in a mix of coarse sand and sea salts. His clothes had dried stiff from the same combination. He looked at the deserted beach, Odin’s footprints long since wiped away. Blue eyes dragged up the cliff’s face so that he could catch a glimpse of Asgard’s golden city.

He let loose a shuddering breath as he clutched the cloak closer, only just noticing that it was not Hel’s, but Odin’s cloak that had lain over him while he lay dead. Thor stiffly rose and made his way back to the palace, first to find a bath then to find out how long he had been gone.

  


Loki  


Odin paced in his war room, it was filled with only a handful of those Aesir he trusted and a smattering of loyal guards lining the wall. He stopped and glared stonily at the assembled group.

“What Loki did to Midgard with the chitauri just proves my visions. No. No, send a capable warrior to slay Fenrir. He is still bound and should prove no trouble. Bring the beast’s carcass back. Its part can be used to bind Loki, to show him how he could have been treated,” Odin snapped.

The bronze doors slammed open, bouncing off the walls with an ominous set of bangs, Thor stood there, arms outstretched even as he breathed heavily. 

“No, father,” he growled, striding into the room. “Loki is clearly already tortured. His actions speak of one who circles madness. As do yours.”

Odin jerked back before barking, “Out! All of you.” A flick of his hand had only his personal guards remaining in the room. “What you speak is treason, Thor. Think on that carefully.”

Thor’s hand had drifted down to the handle of Mjolnir as he stared at his father. “I swore oaths to defend Asgard, not let her mad king lead her to ruination,” he barked.

“Ah, the Norns sent me visions of one son leading us merrily towards Ragnarok, but they _failed_ to warn me of the other viper in my nest,” Odin snarled, marching towards Thor.

Thor pulled out Mjolnir, intent on defending himself if need be, even as he tried to reason with his father. “No one turns against you, father. Can’t you see past your fear and paranoia. The anger and pain of Loki’s tantrums is one born of having his children stolen, of finding his life a lie. Please, father,” the blonde pleaded in vain. 

Odin paused, head tilting in contemplation for but a moment before Gungnir lashed out, viper quick, to knock Mjolnir from Thor’s grasp. Thor’s eyes widened, and he bellowed for the hammer to return, to no avail.

“I am still king _here_ ,” Odin growled, stepping over to the fallen hammer. He pressed the butt of his spear down upon Mjolnir broad, flat planes before turning back to Thor. “As much as it pains me, you clearly need to be reminded of your place,” he said calmly, some semblance of sadness winding its way into his voice. Still, Odin didn’t pause as he waved his hand at his guards.

“He’s yours. Make sure the lesson sticks,” he commanded as he bent to pick up Mjolnir and remove himself from the room. A frown marred his face as he wrapped his hand around the hammer’s handle and pulled, but she did not budge from wear she’d fallen. Yet another betrayal in his kingdom.

With a snarl of displeasure he straightened, talking over Thor’s frantic calls for his father’s attention. “I’ve simply been doing what I must for Asgard’s future. Loki’s path, and that of his children, is to bring ruin. I- I tried. But not even your mother, weaver of futures, believes what they will bring.” Odin trailed off with a shake of his head, and walked out of the war room, pulling the doors shut behind him. Cutting off Thor’s final yell.

Thor twisted, fists lashing out now that Mjolnir couldn’t heed his calls. He had been momentarily horrified, stunned by his father’s indifference, which had allowed the quartet of guards to close the gap from their positions. Whirling, he could recognize each and every one of them underneath their helms. He recognized them, but knew he would find no sympathy there so he felt no need to hold himself back.

His fists flashed out, landing blows on the vulnerable parts of the guards like hammers themselves, but where he had years of training, they had numbers as well as equally good training. Thor kicked out, boot catching one of the guards in the chest and sending him staggering back. He felt arms slide high between his ribs and his upper arms, snapping up to bracket in his movement. Thor slammed his head back to catch the guard’s chin and nose, unheeding of the pain from his skull connecting with unforgiving metal. Unfortunately the grip only tightened.

Blinding pain shuttered his vision as a fist connected with his jaw, rocketing Thor’s face to the side. He blindly turned back to his attacker, a snarl baring his teeth only to have the gauntleted fist strike him again. Thor could taste blood, feel the sticky heat spreading down his chin. He kicked out again, only to have one of the guards he had previously knocked away catch his ankle, yanking him harshly off balance.

“For fuck’s sake, one of you find something to bind his arms,” the guard before Thor snapped as he wedged himself between his thighs, curtailing his range of movement. Something sudden wrapped around Thor’s throat, constricting his breath. Black spots sparked across his vision and he briefly lost track of time, only to cough hoarsely moments later.

“Quick thinking,” someone muttered.

Thor frowned, wincing as the facial movements pulled at a cut on his cheek, and tried twisting as he came back to his senses. He was currently laid on his side, winded, with his arms bound together from wrist to elbow with a ragged strip of his own red cloak. He struck out with his legs, but in his position the guards only had to step out of range. Still, a foot connected to Thor’s ribs and even through his armor it forced whatever air that remained in his lung out. He curled, knees drawn up to protect vulnerable bits.

“That’s for the head butt,” the guard growled as he circled Thor, bending low to wind a hand through tangled golden hair. He used the hold to pull upward, forcing Thor to scramble to get his knees under him so that was kneeling before the guards. His blue eyes darted, eyeing three of the four men he could currently see. He bared his teeth as one came forward.

The guard laughed as he dropped into a crouch in front of Thor, slapping his bound hands away as the blonde tried to ward off his advances; the one behind Thor used his hold on his hair to force his head back, neck painfully arched. The guard’s hands drifted down to flick open the buckles of Thor’s armor, yanking the placket of his trousers open. The guard stilled with his hand just _there_ before turning to glare at one of the two guards that remained aloof.

“Could I get a hand with the armor, unless you want to rub your dick off,” he said with a jerk of his head toward the greaves, scale mail shirt, and chest piece.

The other two guards scrambled over, fingers nimbly unbuckling the the greaves and tossing them haphazardly to the side. Despite his shifting and arching away, Thor’s boots, and the rest of his armor followed suit, leaving him simply in his already loosened pants. The guard had hooked his fingers underneath the heavy material, calluses dragging across the cloth covering Thor’s cock.

“I get the feeling you aren’t enjoying this, prince,” he said, squeezing experimentally, the grip sliding past the point of pain. Thor grunted, trying to pull away.

The guard behind Thor tightened his grip in his hair, more than a few strands popping loose. “Stop fondling him. Some of us would like move this along,” he snapped, punctuating his words by using his hold to shake Thor’s head.

Taking that as his cue the guard brusquely yanked both Thor’s trousers and his underwear off with a series of jerky pulls made rougher by the fact that Thor was currently kneeling. Finally left naked except for the strips binding his arms, Thor shivered, watching the guard that had removed his pants start to stand. The man shifted, rubbing a thumb across Thor’s lower lip before attempting to force the pad between his teeth. Thor parted his teeth a moment, letting the guard press his advantage before savagely biting down. The guard yelled as flesh parted and more blood was spilled, fist striking Thor in the jaw. The guard holding his hair, released him, letting the momentum of the blow carry Thor to the floor.

While the wounded guard voiced all manner of curses, the other three laughed. “Best to keep anything vital away from his mouth, then,” one chuckled as he stepped over Thor’s prone form.

Thor laughed harshly. “Big men, doing the dirty work of a rabid king,” he spat the guard’s blood onto the floor.

The guards stopped laughing, glowering at the defiant prince. “Right. Who drew first blood? Sedrig, was it you?”

A guard stepped near Thor, foot almost gently catching him in the ribs, rolling him to his front with a grunt before the guard dropped to his knees behind the prince. The man fiddled with his belt with one hand, tugging out his blood-thickened cock. He spat into his hand, dragging his hand from root to flared crown, thrusting his hips slightly into his fist. The guard shuffled forward on his knees, hand landing heavily on Thor’s hips to yank him up on his knees. Thor managed to work his bound arms under him to spare his shoulders and face.

Thor dropped his head, baring his teeth behind the curtain of his hair, as he was breached with a cruel thrust. The muscles in his neck tightened visibly as he clenched his jaw, caging the urge to cry out the first real licks of pain in his throat. 

He curled his nails into the meat of his palms, slicing open skin in an attempt to create some pain that he could claim as his own, some pain that he controlled. It didn’t drown out the tearing, stabbing, ripping agony; it didn’t distract from the guard’s rhythmic grunts or the steady sounds of flesh sliding against flesh; it didn’t even cover the comparatively minor twinge from the guard’s fingers digging into the muscles of his hips. What it did was give Thor something to channel his rage into.

His head was wrenched up by a hand gripping a fistful of his hair. His electric blue eyes snapped as he glared at the guard who’d settled in front of him. Thor twisted his lips into a sneer even as a particularly rough thrust had his breath hissing out between his teeth. His gaze challenged the guard, as the man peeled his leather armor down his thighs, flushed erection bouncing with his movements.

Seeing the taunting gaze and flashing teeth, the guard shook his head, “Oh, no. I’m not going near your mouth.” With that, he shifted his hold in Thor’s hair, forcing his neck and back to arch to compensate. The shift in position had a groan coming from behind him, the steady pump of hips becoming stuttered and more erratic.

The guard kneeling in front of Thor begins to deliberately fuck his own fist only inches away from Thor’s face. An occasional thrust has the head of his cock brush against the prince’s bearded chin, leaving the skin tacky with pre-cum. Thor feels as sudden gush of liquid inside him that is heralded by the squeeze of fingers and a long, drawn-out groan behind him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Frigga was sitting in the dungeon cell across from her youngest son, blue eyes impassive as she continued to knit. Loki sat across the room from her, unable to say a word as he still had that muzzle corralling his mouth. When she had first entered, Loki had glowered in an attempt to intimidate, to stall her questions or her hatred. Instead she had simply sat and pulled out a pair of knitting needles and started work on a half-finished scarf. As the minutes had ticked away, and she had said nothing but radiated disapproval, his scowl had melted into shame.

“Loki,” she said, watching as he jumped at the sound of her voice, “I had hoped I had made it obvious that I cared for you, that _we_ cared for you. Instead, I find that you have invaded Midgard, aided the Chitauri, and killed many humans. You are our responsibility so wergild will be paid.”

Frigga’s eyes flashed a moment before she pursed her lips, disapproval radiating off her in waves. Loki tried his best to look contrite. They both jolted and turned to look at the cell’s door as it swung open, twin looks of surprise passed between them as Heimdall stepped into the room.

“There is trouble, my lady,” the guardian said, voice grave. His orange eyes flicked from Loki to Frigga. 

“It calls for both your powers. Lord Odin has… The strain of the visions of the future have driven him to do something terrible. Thor is in need of assistance,” Heimdall continued, voice freezing several times when he was at a loss for words.

Frigga magicked her knitting away and stood, staring at Heimdall. “What do you mean, Heimdall?” she asked. A frisson of fear raised up her spine.

“Lord Odin has slipped my gaze many times in the last few centuries. Thor with him. I fear that the All-father has turned his paranoia on your son,” he answered.

Loki’s brows twisted in confusion as he looked from his mother to the Guardian of Bifrost, a thousand questions in his dark eyes.

Heimdall continued, “Thor is being tortured in Odin’s war room. Odin is in his private chambers. I think it best you go to your husband. Loki may be the only Thor will trust now.”

Frigga paused for a moment, gaze searching the veracity of his words. After a few moments she moved to Loki’s side, fingers flying along the catches of the muzzle before letting it drop into Loki’s lap. “Go to your brother, Loki,” she said as passed out of the cell, Heimdall hot on her heels.

Loki ran a hand over his newly exposed face, speculatively watching the pair leave. He idly entertained the thought of simply escaping Asgard altogether, but he felt too curious over what “torture” Odin would level on his prized son. If nothing else he could stand back and watch, Loki mused, fury over his recent defeat on Midgard stirring.

The newly freed Loki made his way towards Odin’s war room, a smug smirk playing across his lips when he passed a shocked servant, guard, or noble. He paused just outside the doors, not hearing anything through the heavy, insulating metal. When he stepped through the doors, he stopped short, smile wiped from his face in an instant.

Thor lay too pale, face turned away, sprawled on his back with a mostly dressed guard rutting between his gracelessly spread thighs. Loki caught the impression of bruises, the torn and scattered clothing, tightly bound hands, and blood. He heard one of the dressed guards curse, but his eyes were locked on Thor, on the guard between his thighs that had just noticed the reactions of the other guards. He stilled his thrusts, casting a glance over his shoulder, color draining from his cheeks at the green-eyed sorcerer whose hands were currently curling up into a casting position.

The guard hastily pulled out, leaving a bright splash of blood on Thor’s thighs and Loki couldn’t contain the icy rage he felt in the pit of his stomach, racing along his veins. He had no desire to contain his fury. He lashed out, no Casket of Ancient Winters, no staff, but the blast of enchanted ice flash froze the four guards in place. Their horror written across their features.

With a roar, Loki snatched up the nearest weapon, not noticing that it was Mjolnir and struck four quick blows, icy statues shattering across the floor before he tossed Mjolnir down. He collapsed bonelessly to his knees beside Thor, hand reaching out to hesitantly cup the air mere centimeters from bare skin. Wild blue eyes snapped open, pupils blown from pain. Loki let loosed a stream of soothing nonsense words as he scrambled to grab Thor’s discarded cloak, dragging the fabric over the blonde’s shaking frame. His hand uselessly skated the air above Thor before he gently, oh so gently, touched him.

Loki managed not to jerk away when Thor flinched, keeping up running commentary on anything but what had happened in here. He conjured up one of his daggers to saw through the strip of fabric that was wrapped around Thor’s arms, watching his brother pull them close to his chest once he was free.

“Thor. Thor. I need to… I have to get you to the healers. I have to carry you. I promise, I _swear_ I won’t hurt you. Just. Just let me, please,” he babbled as he tucked the tattered cloak around Thor. Thor no longer seemed to flinch from Loki’s touch, though the shaking had increased in force and Thor had yet to say anything. When he felt comfortable doing so, Loki scooped up Thor’s larger body showing the strength he was easily capable of despite everyone’s misconceptions. Loki clutched him to his chest bridal-style and rushed towards the healing wing of the palace, not giving a damn for any who got in his way.

  
To Sleep, To Dream  


Frigga stared at her husband who currently sat brooding on Hlidskjalf, his throne. The swooping golden wings of the chair curved away giving the married couple an ample view of each other as the queen closed the distance. Heimdall stood at the twin doors that lead into the room, his gaze had followed each and every guard that had filed out. Frigga cared little if they had listened to her demands for the to leave.

“What have you done, husband of mine?” she asked as she neared him.

Odin looked up at his wife. “What I _had_ to,” he growled.

Frigga tilted her head, feeling the weight of her hair shift, as she looked, simply looked, despairing at the sight of her husband. She sighed, an ached building in her chest, “This has to do with your visions on Loki’s children.”

Odin exploded into motion, leaping u from his throne and storming down the steps to close the distance towards his wife. “Everything has to do with _Loki_!” he snapped, pacing around the room, movements erratic. He whirled to stare at Frigga, one hand had a white-knuckled grip on Gungnir while the other pointed at his wife. “You have seen it! In your weaving, the wolf, the snake, that- that abomination! In all the dreams the Norns sent me they were involved in Ragnarok! I just need to protect Asgard!”

“Odin, I’ve told you before, what glimpses we catch of the future are _could be’s_ , they are not written in stone. What is woven can be unthreaded,” Frigga pleaded, keeping her voice low and soothing.

Odin growled and faced away from Frigga. “See, I told him. I told him you didn’t understand. None of you do. I simply do what I must,” he snarled as he stared at the throne of Asgard.

Frigga shook her head, loose curls bouncing. “Nay, husband, you do what you will and damn the consequences. Thor had to be _cast_ amongst mortals to find his nobility.” she snapped, one arm flinging out to the side in her fury to be heard, “Loki- Loki threw intergalactic tantrums just to be noticed. He follows in _your very footsteps_ , taking up the mantle of sorcerer in a bid to win some affection. Instead you steal his children and drive him to the brink of madness!”

Her voice had steadily rose during her tirade and her fingers had been busy invoking magic, weaving wisps of intent into a tidily laced net. Frigga began walking toward her husband's back, cutting off his protest. “You’ve decided your course of action without asking for aid. Any could have helped you with the burdens you carry: Heimdall, Tyr, even me. But no, Odin. You are always right, aren’t you?” she whispered, tears spilling from her eyes as she rested her forehead to her husband’s broad back. She felt his shoulders sag against that slight pressure.

“I should have seen sooner. I should have pushed more,” Frigga despaired as she pulled back slightly.

When he had the space, Odin turned to look at his wife, lips parted to explain. To convince her of the truth of what he had seen. Instead, his single eye widened as Frigga pressed her fingers to his grey temples, settling the net of magic over his face. Almost instantly he staggered back, releasing Gungnir with a loud, echoing clatter. Odin pressed his hands to his face and stared drunkenly at his wife.

“Wh- What?” he stuttered.

“Odin All-Father, you have tangled yourself too deeply in Yggdrasil’s roots. Now you’ll sleep, a true sleep, until such a time as your mind has healed itself. Till such a time that I can forgive you, for your sons to forgive, for your grandchildren to forgive you. Even if that takes until the stars burn out,” Frigga whispered, catching her husband by his arms, slowing his collapse to the floor, gentling his landing.  
She cradled his head in her hands, weeping over his sleeping body. Heimdall shifting by the door, for once unsure of what he should action he should take. Frigga took a shuddering, wet breath before pulling away from her husband, gingerly laying his head on the floor. She stood and made her way to Gungnir, picking the spear up before staring at Heimdall with watery eyes.

“I think,” she started thickly before swallowing away her tears, “I think until we find out Thor’s well-being, and since Loki is still- I will assume governance of Asgard. Find me Tyr, Bragi, and Mimir. I’ll need their assistance. Yours as well.” 

Heimdall deeply bowed to the queen before looking to the east. “Your sons are headed to Eir’s clinic,” he supplied.

“Oh, and have… Have Odin moved to his chambers. Tell them he has simply fallen into Odinsleep,” she whispered, before rushing towards the healing wing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The healing process begins for the entire family.

Aftermath

Loki stared down at his hands as he sat hunched in a high-backed chair in Eir’s medical ward. 

As soon as he had plowed into the room, the sepia-skinned goddess appeared, confusion at the sudden interruption clear in her dark eyes. Then her gaze had landed on the huddled man in Loki’s arms and she had sprung into motion. Eir had practically pulled Loki and Thor into one of her more intimate rooms, leaving Loki to deposit the catatonic prince on the bed as she bustled around gathering supplies. She’d then promptly shoved the youngest son out of the room and clicked the door close.

Now he had nothing to do but to wait. No knowledge of what passed beyond that door would be revealed to him until Eir was assured that the outcome was set. Loki hadn’t thought that the wounds… the damage had been life threatening, but he was no healer. He rocked minutely in the chair, hands catching and twisting against each other.

Until cool fingers stilled their frenetic movements.

Loki lifted his green eyes to stare into his mother’s blue. He noticed with some shock the redness of her lids, and maybe more importantly, the golden spear in her hand.

“It’s done?” he whispered. 

“I bound him to a sleep deeper than his healing ones,” Frigga said in confirmation.

Loki’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Sleep? Sleep?” he hissed, jerking away from his mother, vibrating in rage as his volume skyrocketed. “He had Thor ra-” Loki stopped, dropping back to a hoarse whisper, “ _Odin_ had him raped, and you _put him to sleep_. Did you tuck him into bed as well?”

Frigga’s gaze bled into stoniness as she stared at her sun. “What Odin did is horrible. Do **not** doubt my conviction of that,” she countered icily, “And need I remind you of all the innocent life lost on Midgard due to your actions? You’re in no place to lecture.”

The next span of moments were spent in a silent clash of wills until Loki shifted and looked away. He muttered an apology under his breath and wished that he hadn’t killed those guards quite so quickly. If only he hadn’t been so disturbed by the sight of Thor then he could’ve have taken his time. Made them bleed.

Frigga sighed and dropped into the chair beside Loki, catching one of his hands in hers whether he wanted the contact or not. She stared blankly at a far wall for a moment. “I am queen in deed as well as word now. Thor does not need the addition of ruling Asgard. And you… You are still a prisoner,” she mused, leaning her weary head against the wall.

She looked at her youngest from the corners of her eyes and released a humorless chuckle. When Loki looked at his mother with worry clear in his eyes, she explained, “I think I’ve figured out your ‘punishment’.”

Loki just stared at her.

“You’ll guard Thor. Discreetly, of course. He’ll need time to heal. Which he probably won’t give himself so it’ll be your duty to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, much less run off to Midgard,” she continued after a beat.

Loki scoffed, “He’s stubborn. It’ll never work.”

“Then you’d better use those wits of yours to find a way,” she replied.

The pair occupied themselves with more banter for a while more, using words to distract each other from their worry and rage and pain. Finally, the soft snick of a door opening had both Frigga and Loki looking towards Thor’s room with twinned expressions of apprehensions. Eir stepped out, drying her hands on a towel as she noticed the pair. She heaved a sigh and shook her head.

“He Sleeps,” Eir said, exhaustion telegraphed in her movements.

Loki shifted forward, ready to move to Thor’s side. “When will he wake?”

“You misunderstand. He _Sleeps_. His mind, his spirit needs time to heal. It could be hours or days, even weeks, before he awakens,” she clarified, stepping farther into the room, her bare arms folded under her breasts.

Loki stared at her vacantly, lips parted in shock. Frigga shifted and covered her youngest’s horror with her own questions, “How is he physically.”

Eir leaned her shoulder against the opposite wall and shrugged. “Lacerations, bruises, ligature marks. There was tearing, as was expected from such abuse. I bathed him and set about fixing all that.” Her dark eyes sharpened, a vicious glint in their depths giving credence to her origins as a valkyrie, “And the ones who did this… Tell me they are no more.” At Loki’s swift nod she cursed and then sighed.

“I’d hoped to have a round with them myself,” she muttered ruefully.

Her eyes darted between the pair and then she jerked her chin in the direction of the room behind her. “I see no reason that you two cannot visit. Just keep it calm in there.”

Loki wanted to be in that room already, but he hung back, helping his mother out of her chair before sedately guiding Frigga to Thor’s room.

In the small, impersonal room lay only one thing of interested to Loki or Frigga: Thor. The eldest prince lay motionless in the bed, so motionless, in fact, that Loki almost thought he wasn’t breathing. His blonde hair was curled in little pools and eddies on the pillow. The light, green blanket had been pulled up to his chest, arms laying by his sides. Somehow Eir had gotten hold of one of Thor’s sleeping gowns that Loki was sure that his brother never actually used. And true to Eir’s word, the visible marks on Thor’s face, neck, and arms had faded to almost nonexistence, only the last traces of green-yellow bruises even hinted at the damage that had been there hours before.

Frigga dropped into a chair that Loki had dragged to the edge of the bed. She reached out with a shaking hand to pull Thor’s unmoving hand into hers. Loki pressed his hand to her shoulder for a moment before moving to find another chair. Frigga bowed her head, shoulders starting to shake.

\--------------------------------

Rebuilding

It had been a few days since Loki had hauled Thor to Eir’s medical ward, since Odin had been forced to Sleep, since Frigga had assumed the throne of Asgard. In that time not much had happened, for Loki at least. Until a page boy had stumbled into his room that morning shrieking that he was needed by Lady Eir. Loki wasn’t sure how quickly he had dashed to the healing wing, but he was vaguely sure that he had teleported at least once.

Eir looked up from a book as he staggered in, an amused twitch of her lips accompanying the once over she gave his clothes. He’d been a little… haphazard when dressing. Loki told her as much.

“I didn’t say for you to kill yourself getting here,” she muttered as she closed her book and gracefully stood, leading the way towards Thor’s room. She called back to Loki, “He woke up last night. And no, I didn’t tell you because I wanted to evaluate his condition and give him a while to adjust without being swarmed.”

She brusquely rapped his knuckles to the door. Loki strained his ears to hear the raspy voice finally grant them entrance. He’d almost been afraid she’d been lying.

Thor was sitting up, propped on a small pile of pillows. His blue eyes widened at the sight of Loki, muzzle-less, chainless, and un-imprisoned. His eyes darted to Eir. “You’re sure it’s only been a few days?” he asked, voice rough from disuse.

Eir rolled her eyes. “We’ve talked of this.,” she muttered, pausing as she looked between the brothers and then shrugged, “I’ll leave you two alone.” With that she walked out though she did leave the door cracked open.

Loki shifted listlessly for a moment before deciding to pull over a chair, fiddling with it so it faced his brother before plopping down. He licked his lips, stalling for time before he had to talk. He had so many things race through his head in the last few days that Loki wasn’t sure just where to begin. Thor, of course, beat him to the punch.

“Eir said you… That you found me,” he said, turning his head to cough.

Loki nodded. “I took care of… I have Mjolnir,” he answered, voice unsteady. He was still unsure of what to say, how to say it.

Thor’s eyebrows twitched, visibly unsure how to parse this information. He pinched the corner of his blanket and flipped it back and forth for a few minutes as the awkward silence reined. Finally Thor looked back up at Loki, a flinty cast to his blue eyes.

“Look, we both know what happened. You- Eir said you took care of the guards. She said that father is in Odinsleep?” The last sentence was said with such hesitancy that Loki felt his breath hitch. He nodded.

Thor suddenly reached up and combed a hand through his blonde mane, expelling a loud breath as he warily eyed Loki. “I want out of here,” he growled.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Loki cautioned, starting forward in his seat.

“You misunderstand me, brother. I am getting out of here, with or without you,” Thor said with a dry little chuckle. With that, he flicked the blanket completely back, revealing that the gown stopped just past his knees, and slid so his coltishly unsteady legs where he folded them over the edge of the mattress, pressing his feet to the floor. Thor stood and staggered slightly as he gained his bearings. Loki was there in an instant, hands bolstering Thor’s initial attempts to stand.

Only to have the blonde shrug him off in a fit of violence, back pressed against the wall and nostrils flaring as he glared, wild-eyed at Loki. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

Loki held up his hands, palms point towards Thor, fingers spread wide. “All right. But… Don’t you think that’s a good sign that you should _wait_ ,” he whispered, ducking his head to maintain eye contact when Thor shifted.

Thor bared his teeth. “I’m fine,” he snapped, shoving away from the wall on now steady legs. He tugged the thin top blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself like a cloak before bypassing Loki and heading for the door.

“Yes, because that display is of someone who’s fine,” Loki said, his hands back up at the glare that Thor leveled at him over his shoulder as the blonde pulled the door open.

Eir popped out of thin air, her eyebrows climbing as she stared at Thor before turning her accusing gaze towards Loki, silently seeming to ask, “What is he doing up?”

“I’m. Fine.” Thor bit out as he stomped past her as well. Loki stayed hot on Thor’s heels, but twirled to shrug and mouth “Sorry!” at Eir before twisting back to follow his sibling out of the healing wing of the palace. The dark-haired sorcerer was busy formulating some reason, any reason really, why he should stay with Thor; the man was too stubborn --and angry-- to accept “because mother said so” as a valid reason.

About the moment that flitted through Loki’s mind, Thor looked over his shoulder at his brother. “I need no minder,” he hissed, storming his way towards his rooms, to find some actual clothes. And maybe spend a few days hiding away from any other person.

“Ah, but I do,” Loki automatically countered, only to stop short as Thor stopped walking, whirling to glare at his sibling.

“What? It’s true. Queen Frigga’s orders. I need to be watched at all times,” he continued glibly.

“I’m sure,” Thor said, face set into a mild scowl before turning back towards the direction of his rooms. He shambled along at a steady pace. “I’m also sure it has absolutely nothing to do with… with what happened.”

Loki hummed noncommittally as he followed after his brother. If Thor wanted to pretend nothing had happened, then Loki wasn’t about to press. Yet. Instead he kept a critical eye on Thor’s movements, making sure he didn’t stumble again. As they neared the blonde’s rooms, Loki sped up, passing Thor and breezed into his rooms before his sibling could muster a protesting look, much less voice it. Loki kept his back to Thor, appearing to ignore even if every cell of his being was so thoroughly attuned to the blonde man at that moment, as he dug through Thor’s wardrobe.

“I thought I said I didn’t need a minder,” Thor groused as two pairs of casual trousers were tossed at his head, as well as a soft, worn shirt. The glare was hidden as a pair of pants* landed on his head.

As buried as he was in the wardrobe, Loki’s voice was muffled when he called back, “You don’t! But we both know what happens when I’m bored. Things explode. Sif’s hair turns orange. Volstagg tries to sing.” He poked one hand out of the wardrobe and rolled in it a “and so on” sort of gesture.

“Like leading an invasion against mortals?” Thor viciously reminded Loki as he dragged the underwear off his head and then froze.

Loki mirrored his posture, freezing for a moment before sighing out a quiet, “Yes. That too.”  
Thor sighed. He would not apologize since Loki was well in the wrong with what had happened on Earth, but he was Thor’s brother. He doubted anything that would ever make him regret what he had sacrificed over the last few centuries, nor make him never seek to mind the wounds of their relationship, despite who had inflicted what transgression.

Loki ceased his pawing through Thor’s clothing, drawing out of the wardrobe to look squarely at his disheveled brother. A sigh gusted past his lips, “Look, Thor. What happened to you, what those men did, they don’t change who you are,” he whispered, breaking the almost friendly air that the room had taken on. So much for not pressing.

“I- I know that! It didn’t change it before. It doesn’t change it now!” Thor bellowed. Then froze as the color drained rapidly from his cheeks as he realized what his words implied. He snarled like a wounded beast before slamming into his bathroom, the impact of the door made the walls shudder.

Loki blinked, a ball of acid seemed to eat at his stomach as he stared blankly at the closed door. Heimdall had mentioned times in the past when Odin had slipped from his gaze much in the ways that Loki did. How many times had those been to hurt Thor? _Why_ had he hurt Thor?

He folded his arms protectively across his abdomen and called out, hopefully loud enough to be heard through door and running water, “I- I’m going to find something to eat. I’ll bring you back some… And Mjolnir too!”

\-------------------------------

Loki took his time going to the kitchens to get enough food for two of Asgard’s warriors, discreetly pausing to listen to the kitchen staff’s gossip. So far, the people of Asgard had accepted the story of the All-Father needing Odinsleep, and with Loki indisposed and Thor constantly running off to Midgard ---which was where they had thought the prince had been for the last week as well-- they’d easily accepted Frigga’s rule. It wasn’t as if she’d been practically running parts of the realm for millennia anyway.

Breakfast for two snagged, Loki headed for his rooms. He wanted to get Mjolnir back to Thor before too much longer. When he reached the door for his suites, he juggled the tray as he first nudged the door handle open and then bumped the door farther open. The dark-haired trickster thunked the tray onto a conveniently placed table before walking to where Mjolnir had the place of honor: shoved just under the edge of his bed. 

As his fingers curled around the leather handle, Loki was reminded of the time on Midgard when the hammer hadn’t budged inside its SHIELD prison. Even as he braced himself to pick up the hammer, he more than half expected it to stubbornly cling to the floorboards. Instead, Mjolnir came easily, if a bit sluggishly, into his hand.

Loki spun the hammer in his hands, watching the light reflect off the sharply held edges of the metal for a moment before he spared the energy to send the artifact into a pocket in space. He couldn’t very well carry that hammer and their breakfast, and he didn’t trust the breakfast to come out of storage as it had gone in. He turned and left.

When he returned to Thor’s room, Loki breezed in much as he had into his own rooms. Fortunately Thor was finished with his shower, and properly dressed, and was idly sitting on the foot of his neatly made bed. A quick inspection by green eyes showed a placid calm that the trickster hadn’t quite been expecting.

“Breakfast is served,” Loki chimed as he looked around for somewhere to put the tray.

“Put it here,” Thor said as he patted the mattress to his side. At Loki’s raised eyebrows, Thor snorted, “As long as you promise not to bounce I’m sure we can manage not to make a mess.”  
Loki gave a rolling shrug of his shoulders as he placed the tray on the bedspread. He stepped back as Thor poked through the food with a cautious index finger, and rolled his green eyes. He then theatrically coughed into his fist, “Now for the surprise in the box.”

At having those blue-blue eyes back on him, Loki twirled his fingers like some mortal magician in front of an audience before he summoned Mjolnir. Thor’s eyes widened as the hammer seemed to vibrate in Loke’s grasp like some over excited hound at the return of her master. Mjolnir suddenly sprung, closing the distance to slap into Thor’s waiting palm. He gave the hammer a few swings with a simple rotation of his wrist, though he was thankfully mindful of the precariously balanced plate to his left.

“You could pick her up,” Thor murmured.

Loki walked over and gingerly sat on the bed, digging a sausage from the rather ridiculous pile before he broke off a piece and popped it in his mouth. After he swallowed, he airily asked, “Is that so shocking?”

“Odin couldn’t when he… when I…” Thor trailed off, eyes gaining an opaque cast.

“Oh,” Loki muttered. He reached out with the hand without a sausage to brush his fingers lightly across Thor’s shoulders before speaking again, voice rapidly picking up steam, “You must know whatever happened, you will not change in my eyes?”

Thor blinked, both at the words and the touch and looked at Loki. “Oh?” he asked.

“Hmm. Yes, you’ll always be that annoying bastard that somehow manages to foil my schemes,” Loki light-heartedly said before turning serious, “Even during my darkest moments for the last few-- You’ve been a constant in my life, Thor. That’s not going to change. You can’t be diminished.”

Thor grunted noncommittally before looking down at Mjolnir hanging limply from his hand. He bent down to place her on the floor by his feet before straightening, plucking one greasy sausage off the plate. “I don’t want to talk about it, Loki,” Thor grunted as he stared ahead.

“Then don’t,” Loki retorted, “Just know that you can. And even if there was some reason to judge you, as you and mother have both pointed out, I have no room to do so. I’ll be here.”

“Yes, yes,” Thor grumbled, a little lighter now, “Since it seems mother has left you with me like some guardsmen.”

Loki pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You can’t get rid of me, dear brother, why, how will I manage to get any good _skulking_ done with you bounding around behind me like some great hound?” he gasped out in horror, and was rewarded by the sight of the corners of Thor’s lips twitching.

“A great hound, am I?” Thor asked, pausing to munch on the sausage. “That makes you, what? The magpie sent to drive us all mad and steal our buttons?”

This set off another round of bickering that the two brothers hadn’t indulged in since before Thor had been exiled to Midgard. Somehow in between exchanging weak insults and scoffing tales, they cleared the tray of every crumb of meat and eggs. At some point, Loki had ending lying on the bed with his head and arms hanging off the foot of the mattress.

“So what would you have us do today? Staying in a library? Spelunking in Freyr’s closet?” Loki asked brightly, as he idly fiddled with Thor’s bare ankle.

Thor twitched his foot away and replied, “I had thought to find Sif and the others and go work through some practices.”

Loki scoffed in a manner similar to an annoyed teen, “You’d inflict _them_ upon me, brother?”

“Nay, Loki! I’d inflict you upon them so I could get some air,” Thor chuckled lightly as he stood. He tugged on a pair of socks and then slid on a pair of his boots before retrieving Mjolnir. When he turned back to the bed, Loki was still oozing off the bottom, a slight pout on his face.

“Planning to dust the floor with your head?” Thor asked, arching an eyebrow.

Loki snorted and muttered something caustic under his breath as he pulled himself back up onto the bed before rolling off the side. He tugged the folds of his jacket straight and brushed a hand through his hair, trying to tame the dark tresses into something like his usual swept-back style. He frowned down at his hand when he pulled it back, a small dust bunny clinging to his fingers.

“Not a word,” he grumbled as he picked up the barren breakfast tray. “Fine. Training it is. We can return this on our way.”

Thor nodded as he lead the way out of the room, holding the door open for Loki. They swept through the halls, heading back to the kitchen. This time when passers-by spotted Loki, the automatically seemed to calm at the sight of the blonde god, so it seemed Frigga’s “punishment” was open knowledge. Or they all simply trusted Thor to be able to smack him down should he try anything. Loki couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered with their petty reasoning.

As the pair neared the training arena that Thor liked to frequent, the shapes of four familiar figures could be seen already thwacking away at training dummies, or each other. Thor pulled ahead with a bright, open-mouth smile, hand waving in the air.

“Volstagg! Sif! Fandral! Hogun!” he bellowed their names much like the storms he was named after. Loki rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips at the simplicity of Asgard life, which he quickly schooled into a scowl as they neared.

“Ah, Thor! Good of you to join us, we’d thought you still on Midgard,” Fandral said, grinning as he stabbed his blade tip-first into the hard-packed dirt.

Sif stiffened as she eyed Loki. “And what is he doing here?” she grumbled.

Loki bowed behind Thor, a devious smirk plastered on his face. “Our esteemed mother thought that playing the part of Thor’s shadow would show me the errors of my ways,” he responded with a mocking pout.

Things spiraled from there and somehow -- _somehow_ \-- Loki found himself facing off against Fandral. Thor and Hogun had said something about them being in the same weight-class and then pulled one of the bales of straw that lined the arena’s stone walls farther into the arena before sitting on it and watching like Fandral and Loki’s duel was some sort of spectator sport.

Thor bellowed his encouragement as Loki parried a slice of Fandral’s blade with an ice blade of his own before spinning away, gaining distance. He’d kited* the blonde-haired aesir warrior around the arena, sometimes tossing as rude gesture at the occasional jeers of the four spectators. Fandral rushed him, the sound of metal on enchanted ice ringing in the air as Loki twisted, turned, and flung his blades out. A smug grin broke across his face when he’d noticed that enough of the ice had landed, locking Fandral in place.

Fandral eyed the ice, yanking on a frozen limb for a few minutes, before smiling good-naturedly and calling, “I believe this is a draw”

Loki’s hands settled on his hips and he angled his head to the side, letting mussed hair fall about his angular face. “A draw?” he asked, incredulous at Fandral’s daring.

Fandral paused and then nodded, a bright grin showing through his beard. “Aye, I think it’s safe to call it a draw.”

“How was that a draw?” Loki yelled, waving a hand at the ice binding the warrior in place.

“Well, I would’ve worn you down eventually,” Fandral pouted.

Loki rolled his eyes and shook his head as he sliced his hand in a horizontal gesture through the air abd the ice vanished. This caused Fandral to overbalance and land on his ass. Which then caused Volstagg to start one of his belly-shaking laughs.

Hogun walked over to assist the blonde up while Thor hopped off the bale and wandered over to Loki. He clapped his hand on the dark-haired trickster’s shoulder and beamed at him.

“It was a good show,” Thor praised.

Loki rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Thor simply laughed and then abruptly spun to challenge Volstagg to a sparring session. And thus the rest of the day past, with various duels between the six warriors, and then free-for-alls until they wore themselves out and split up for the evening. After supper Loki took his leave of his sibling, giving them both some needed space before it all started over again the next morning.

\----------------------------------

Things had developed a sort of routine over the last few days for Loki: he woke up, got breakfast, and spent the mornings in Thor’s room either chatting about pointless things or reading some book as his brother cleaned his new armor. Then they’d head down to the training grounds for a day of playing tag with the Warriors Three and Sif. He’d noticed another routine springing up as well with Thor going out of his way to interact with more and more people, almost as if he were acclimating himself to others again. It reminded him of the words Thor had said so many days ago, about what Loki had stopped not being the first instance.

And so Loki expected this day to be no different.

He walked into Thor’s room, tray balanced in his hands to catch sight of his brother already dressed, though instead of being in his armor or in heavily padded clothing, he was wearing lighter clothes meant for riding. He even already had his boots on.

“So what are your plans for today?” Loki asked as he deposited the tray in its customary spot on the bed.

“First I want to visit Idunn’s orchard,” Thor said as he took his spot beside Loki, sharing the breakfast in companionable silence.

“Oh? And what then?” Loki asked as he licked his fingers clean.

“Then I… Father has been bound in his sleep, yes?” Thor suddenly asked with such hesitancy that Loki found so out of place with his usually ever so brash brother.

He then hummed an assent. “Yes, mother laid some enchantments on Odin so that he couldn’t wake. Why?”

“Then I want to go to the stables,” Thor responded, a smile tugging at his lips.

\-------------------------------------

The pair walked into the stables with their pockets stuffed with ripe red and gold Akero apples. Thor stopped and then waved Loki on, telling him to go look at the horses. Loki had eyed Thor suspiciously for a moment before he shrugged and walked ahead.

Thor shifted his path and walked towards the tack room, stopping just outside to take a deep breath, and then walked in. His eyes traveled over saddles and saddle blankets, across bridles and reins, until he saw what he wanted. Then he turned and made for the main corridor of stalls. Just as he passed into the main room he stumbled into the stable master.

Irpa raised one tanned, hand in greeting, her smile bright in her dark, freckled face. “Oh, Thor, good to see you. Anything I can do for you?” she asked.

He shook his head, blonde hair bouncing. “I’m just here to visit with Sleipnir,” Thor answered, side-stepping the stable master.

“Oh, well you know where he is,” she called over her shoulder as she went about her business.

Thor breathed out a sigh as he caught sight of Loki standing outside the stall that he had intended to head to. From this distance he could see Loki’s hands flying as he talked to Sleipnir in an animated fashion. He grinned as he walked down the aisle to come up beside Loki, reaching out fingers to brush against Sleipnir’s muzzle.

“Did you give him an apple yet?” Thor asked as his nephew nuzzled his hand and lipped his fingers. “Ooh, did you tell him that he’s part jotun?”

Loki stiffened and hissed Thor’s name, but Sleipnir chose that moment to override both their voices with a loud whicker. Thor chuckled, and smiled at Loki.

“Aesir or jotun, I’m fairly sure you’re one of a kind, Loki,” he said as he pulled an apple out of his pocket, not caring if Sleipnir had already had one. While the eight-legged horse crunched away on the apple, Thor pulled out a pair of wire cutters and palmed a grey-furred cheek as he pulled a strap of the braided gold bridle taut. Loki’s eyebrows rose as Thor sawed through the strap until it frayed and split. Thor then maneuvered the bridle off of Sleipnir’s head, scrubbing his fingers along the areas of flattened dark grey fur.

Sleipnir’s ears pricked forward as he nickered, shifting without the added weight of the bridle on his head. Thor slipped into the stall, opening the outer stall door that led out to the grassy paddock. As if realizing what Thor had done, Sleipnir first almost daintily, cautiously walked outside before breaking into a trot and then a cantor in the mid-day sunlight. Loki and Thor watched him run with twin sets of smiles plastered on their faces.

Loki shifted to look at Thor for a moment before asking, ‘What was that about?”

Thor continued to smile, but he ran his tongue across his lower lip as he thought. Finally he responded, voice a slight rumbled, “I used to come visit Sleipnir whenever I got the chance. I, uh, I thought he needed someone that could treat him like an intelligent being.” He finished talking and slouched against the wall of the stables.

“I… Thank you,” Loki whispered.

Thor listlessly shrugs and the pair descend into silence for a while longer as they watch a grey, eight-legged stallion charge around the tall grasses of a pasture.

“Father didn’t want me to,” Thor says suddenly, breaking the silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Loki flinch at the sudden noise.

“Oh?’ the trickster asked.

Thor hummed an assent and then fell silent. He shifted, making sure his face was turned from his brother, eyes firmly trained on Sleipnir in the distance before he continued in a hoarse voice, “He gave leave to the _former_ stable master to, uh, show me the error of my ways.”

Loki’s fingers tightened on the fence railing that he had been leaning against, the painted wood creaked under the sudden strain. 

“He had you raped,” Loki said, expression thunderous.

Thor’s body jerked at the words as if they had been an explosion and not barely above a whisper. He violently shook his head, shoulder-length blonde hair whipping through the air. ‘No. _No_ ,” Thor hissed through clenched teeth.

He twisted to face Loki and pointed an index finger at his brother. “I had a _choice_. I could’ve stayed away and it would’ve stopped. I could have fought off Einarr, he was no warrior. I made a choice to come back,” the blonde hissed before looking away, eyes wet.

“You had a choice? What about Odin? He had a choice not to let that happen! He had a choice not to order you be hurt!” Loki snapped, fury and confusion warring in his posture, in his expression, in his tone. Noticing how Thor had pulled away, he reached out tentatively with his fingers, voice dropping to a pleading whisper, “I don’t judge you, Thor, but I sure as hell judge him.”

Thor held himself aloof for a few breaths more, twitching away from Loki’s fingers when they came near until his shoulders abruptly sagged like a puppet with cut strings. He allowed Loki to pull him into his arms and press his face into his brother’s shoulder. Thor didn’t weep or cry or shudder even, he simply stood there clinging to Loki’s whipcord strong frame while he worked through a number of things. At some point one of Loki’s hands had drifted up into his pale hair and scratched softly, soothingly against his scalp as he waited.

Finally Thor drew back with a shuddery sigh. Loki leaned back against the fence for a moment, critically watching his brother for an cues until he at last could contain his question any longer.

“So, former stable master?” he drawled, fingers twitching.

“Aye. One day he was made to understand a change in scenery would be in his best interest,” Thor growled with a feral grin that had Loki been on the receiving end of it chilled him to the core.

Loki hummed out a breath, watching as Thor settled against the railing beside his brother. Both of them returned to watching Sleipnir, who’d now settled into nosing the grass and only occasionally lifting his head to look towards the barn. Loki looked down as he felt fingers grip his bicep, eyes drifting up to look Thor in the face with a curious tilt of his brows.

“I don’t judge you either, Loki,” he rumbled. “You’re annoying, manipulative, brilliant, witty, and a thousand other adjectives. You may make terrible decisions, and I may take my failings out on you, but I’ve never thought you less than my brother in all the ways that matter.”

Loki swallowed and looked away. He nodded his head while staring off into some middling distance while he let the silence lapse again into something comfortable, something companionable. 

“ _‘Adjectives’._ Maybe that time on Midgard _was_ good for something after all,” Loki said after a while, teeth flashing in a teasing grin.

Thor smiled softly as he swatted at his brother’s head. “Imp. I’ll have you know I have read a book. After it was thrown at my head,” he mock grumbled before chuckling. He then huffed a sigh and pushed off the fence. 

“I think I’d like to dine with mother, alone, tonight. There are some things I’d like to talk to her about,” he murmured, looking up at Loki to make sure he wasn’t upset. For his part, Loki simply nodded his understanding.

When Thor started to walk back into the stable, Loki flashed a smile and waved for him to go on. “I think I’ll stay out here a bit longer,” the sorcerer whispered, smiling almost shyly. It was Thor’s turn to nod. He left Loki to spend some uninterrupted time with his first child.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for temporary, but graphic death scene, several instances of graphic rape, and OOC insane Odin.


End file.
